Never Far From Home (The Miller Family 2)

by Mary Ellis

  “Pa put that window in for our aunt before she decided to get married and move around the corner,” Matthew said, dusting off his hands.

  “Yes, I met your Aunt Hannah. Looks like your sister will reap the rewards of your dad’s good idea.” James was speaking to Matthew but kept glancing at Emma.

  Both of them turned to stare at Emma…as if waiting for her to say or do something interesting. She was momentarily at a loss. Folding her arms, she asked, “Neither of you has anything better to do than gawk at me?”

  “I’ve got plenty of better things to do,” Matthew said, and then he headed downstairs.

  James stood for a few moments as though pondering the question. “Nothing really better to do, but I did promise my dad I’d work on his diesel generator today.” He started down the steps too.

  Emma suddenly didn’t want him to leave. Not yet, anyway. “Wait, James!” She hurried after him. He halted at the bottom and looked back.

  “I want to give you something for your trouble,” she said.

  “No, Miss Miller, I won’t take—”

  “Don’t call me Miss Miller. It’s Emma. Plain folk aren’t all that formal. Anyway, it’s just birthday cake. Would you like to take a slice of cake home to have after supper?”

  His grin grew so wide she could practically count each tooth in his mouth. “Sure, I’d like that a lot. I’ll load the dolly in my truck and wait for you there.”

  Emma walked very slowly to the house—slowly because she would have to explain to mamm why she was cutting into a fresh-from-the-oven cake, not even frosted yet, before her family had a chance to sing “Happy Birthday.”

  In the bathroom Julia swallowed two tablets of pain reliever with a full glass of water. “Work fast,” she whispered. “I’ve still got plenty to do today.”

  She wrapped her gift to Emma and tied it with raffia from the dollar store. It was a hummingbird feeder made by a Mennonite glass-blower from the next county. Two small bottles of red food coloring would tint the boiled sugar water that would refill it all summer long. It had taken two months of saving her egg money to afford it, but it was worth every penny. Emma so enjoyed the tiny, darting birds that zoomed in and out of the morning glories and foxglove by the kitchen window. Hanging a feeder there would keep the birds coming long after the blooms were gone.

  Leah was frying chicken and baking sweet potatoes for supper—two of Emma’s favorites. All that remained to be done was to wash some early spinach leaves for a salad and frost the chocolate cake. With a deep, steadying breath and silent prayer for relief from this flare-up of rheumatoid arthritis, Julia limped back into the kitchen.

  Her morning accomplishment sat forlornly lopsided on the counter, tilting from a missing wedge. “Leah, did you eat a piece of your sister’s cake?” As soon as the words were out, Julia realized the ridiculousness of her question. “Ach, I know you didn’t. Was it your bruders? Did they sneak in and help themselves?”

  Leah turned over another chicken leg in the frying pan before speaking. “No, mamm, it was Emma. She cut a big slice to give to that deliveryman.”

  “What deliveryman?” Julia asked, perplexed.

  “That yellow-haired boy who brought her loom. He sure kept smiling at Emma, like she was telling him a funny story. But she wasn’t talking a’tal.” Leah glanced at Julia before she finished flipping the chicken pieces.

  Julia mulled this over while reaching for the bowl of butternut frosting. “Well, it’s her cake, isn’t it? Nice of her to share,” she said to Leah.

  But passing out cake to Englischers who dropped by never had been Emma’s habit. Had she taken a shine to the young sheep farmer? Emma, who never had given them an ounce of trouble while young, had become secretive and distant lately. She spent hours by herself in her herb shed, the loft, or walking woodland paths with a burlap bag over her shoulder.

  Emma was growing up whether Julia and Simon wanted to acknowledge it or not. It was time for her parents to talk. As soon as the odd-shaped cake was decorated, Julia would find Simon and formulate a parental plan. Better to be prepared for this sixteenth birthday party than to be caught unaware.

  Her husband wasn’t hard to find in the least. He was headed up the path to the house from the barn. “Simon, come rock with me a while so we can talk,” Julia said, shuffling toward the porch swing.

  “Couldn’t you talk at me while I wash up, fraa? I don’t want to hold up my little girl’s birthday dinner. Henry says we’re having fried chicken.” He tugged on his suspenders as though in anticipation.

  “Jah, that’s what I mean,” Julia said, sitting down on the swing. “She’s no boppli anymore. She’s sixteen today. ’Spose it’s time to give her a little more freedom.”

  With a weary sigh, Simon sat down next to his wife. “No need to rush things. Maybe Emma’s not ready to start running around yet. She’s so busy with her sheep and making those wreaths. And she’ll have half a dozen new lambs to keep an eye on as soon as Seth and Hannah arrive. No time to think about young men.” His scowl revealed much about the idea of his daughter starting to court.

  “I see and hear things you don’t. You’ve got your mind on your duties as deacon, plus getting the crops planted.” She reached over to cover his hand with hers. “Emma is changing in small ways. She’s growing more concerned about appearances—if her clothes are clean, if her face is sweaty, or if her nails are ragged. Did you know she asked me the other day if I thought her forehead looked too high? Imagine, how could a forehead be too high? It’s right on her face where it’s supposed to be.”

  Simon was staring at Julia as though she were speaking French.

  Julia didn’t wish to worry him unnecessarily, and for that reason decided not to mention the slice of cake given to James Davis unless Simon noticed the missing piece. Emma could have been just grateful for the timely delivery of the loom.

  “Foreheads notwithstanding, I think we should tell our daughter she can start going to Sunday singings. Maybe after she opens her gifts, while we’re having cake and ice cream. When she’s ready, of course,” Julia added quickly.

  Simon gave his beard a long, thoughtful pull. “I don’t know why you’re rushing things, wife, when she hasn’t started pestering us yet. The bishop said his daughter asked for months before they allowed her to attend singings.”

  Julia squeezed his hand, as much as the arthritis would allow.

  “But you’re the knowledgeable one on daughter-matters, Julia, so I’ll trust your judgment.” He struggled to his feet, his back having stiffened in the swing. “Just as long as she knows we’re in no hurry for her to start courting. Twenty, even twenty-two, is still time enough for a gal to pick out a good husband.”

  Julia smiled as Simon went inside to wash up for dinner. He made it sound as though finding a life-mate were no more difficult than selecting a new standardbred buggy horse. But she wasn’t in any hurry for changes within the family either. As far as she was concerned, everything could stay the same for many years to come.

  And yet she also knew that God brought change to people’s lives whether they were ready or not. One needed to trust Him and believe all things were by His hand, part of His divine plan.

  Although Julia had tried to prepare Simon for what was to come, neither was ready for Emma’s announcement later that night. Seth, Hannah, and Phoebe arrived on time for the fried chicken dinner. Every last piece of chicken was eaten, a compliment to young Leah’s skill in the kitchen. Emma opened the hummingbird feeder from her parents with wide-eyed wonder. “ Danki, mamm and daed!” she exclaimed. “I love it.” Leah’s hand-embroidered pillow slips were praised and appreciated. Emma gushed over the box of pecan candies and the book on raising purple martins from Seth and Hannah. The birthday girl also thanked her aunt and uncle warmly for the six new lambs in the pasture.

  But the surprise birthday present came from Emma’s two brothers. The two boys marched a young Angora goat onto the porch to present to her through the screen door.
They had hidden their purchase since the last auction day.

  Matthew declared, “This is the perfect gift. It’ll produce wool for you to shear and sell, plus we can tie it to a stake and he’ll keep the grass short.” The boys were clearly hoping to circumvent cutting the lawn around the house with the push mower all summer.

  Everyone laughed, but no one more than Emma. “That’s my bruders. Always looking for a way around chores.”

  Julia’s energy level began waning as everyone was finishing their cake and ice cream. Thoughts of granting Emma new freedom had been forgotten in her fatigue. So Emma’s announcement came as a surprise, if not an outright shock.

  Emma looked from one parent to the other, cleared her voice, and said, “Danki for a wonderful birthday dinner, mamm and daed. Now that I am sixteen I want to take my full Rumschpringe.”

  No amount of porch swing chitchat could have prepared Simon and Julia for that.

  The next day Hannah was surprised to find Seth still at the kitchen table when she returned from the cellar. This time of year he usually ate fast to get an early start on spring planting. “Here, Phoebe, more strawberry preserves for your toast. Now finish breakfast. We’ve got plenty to do today.”

  The child spread a thick layer of jam on her bread and then used it to move oatmeal around in her bowl. “What are we doing, mamm?” she asked.

  “We’ll be very busy. You will wish you were still in school. We’re planting peas, beans, and squash, setting tomato plants, and cutting spinach. Then we’ll seed two more rows of lettuce to eat later in the summer. And that’s just before lunch. Wait until you see how hard I work you this afternoon.” Hannah reached over to tug one of Phoebe’s braids.

  “I’ll be a big help,” she said, pushing oatmeal over the rim of the bowl.

  “Stop playing with your food,” Seth ordered. “Put your bowl in the sink and take your toast outside. Your ma will meet you in the garden.”

  The child gazed at her father with wide-spaced, huge brown eyes. “Why can’t I wait for her right here?”

  Seth lifted a brow. “I don’t need to give you a reason, daughter. But since the sun is shining and it’s a Tuesday, I will. I want to talk to your mamm, and I don’t want you to hear.” He leaned very close to the small child. “Do you have any more questions?”

  Phoebe didn’t seem nearly as intimidated by her father as Hannah would have been at that age.

  “Nope,” Phoebe said and scampered out the door with her toast.

  “I was wondering why you were still hanging around,” Hannah said, refilling their coffee mugs.

  “Does she always dawdle that much in the morning?”

  “Pretty much. She’s a slow starter and doesn’t go strong till around dinnertime, when there’s precious little day left.” Hannah laughed, thinking how easily bugs, birds, and cloud formations distracted the child.

  Seth shook his head. “I would amend your list of chores. With Phoebe along, you’ll be lucky to get one row of beans planted by lunch.”

  Hannah studied Seth intently, trying to gauge his mood. “Maybe so, but it’s just the first day of vacation. Is that why you waited to speak to me—to make sure your girl isn’t sleeping on the job?” She sipped her coffee appreciatively.

  Seth finished his in one gulp. “No, I wanted to tell you my reason for selling off your lambs yesterday.” He met her gaze over the rim of the cup.

  This was one topic Hannah would have preferred never to speak about again, but she waited for him to continue.

  “Now that the pasture grass has come in thick, I’m not growing another crop of hay. Or soybeans. And if I can harvest my Turkey Red winter wheat by the first of July, I’m thinking about taking over that field too.”

  She stopped stacking the breakfast dishes to stare at him. “What are you planning to do? Dam up the creek and grow rice or maybe cranberries?”

  One side of his mouth pulled into a grin. “Not this year. Maybe next if this doesn’t turn out well.” He laughed with a forced, hollow sound, while Hannah sat patiently waiting.

  “I’m planting all corn this year, every acre other than my first hay crop.”

  “Nothing else?” she asked. “You’ve always made money on alfalfa and with your soybeans.”

  “Not that much once you subtract the costs and expenses. Not much profit to put toward taxes and equipment, let alone save for medical bills.” He rubbed the backs of his hands absently.

  “Corn prices have never been higher,” he continued. “Other than my two pastures and woodlot, I’m putting every tillable acre into corn. We’ll finally be able to put money aside for a rainy day.” He scrambled awkwardly to his feet and then reached over to cup her chin with a calloused hand. “We don’t know what the future holds, Hannah. Simon said Julia could be facing major surgery on her knees and feet. And those operations don’t come cheap.” He ran a caressing finger along her jawbone.

  Normally, Hannah savored his gentle touch, but now the gesture seemed distracting. “Jah, the district will have to pitch in as much as possible.”

  “With the grain elevator buying up everything at great prices, we’ll be in a position to help them. I stand to make a good profit if corn is all I plant.”

  Hannah got the distinct feeling he was trying to convince himself as much as her.

  Unexpectedly, he leaned over and kissed her—in broad daylight, no less. “That’s why I had to sell off your additional livestock, to raise cash to invest in seed corn.” Seth left her to move to the stove to fill his insulated Thermos with the last of the coffee.

  How far more benevolent “additional livestock” sounded instead of “newborn lambs” when describing taking animals to the market. Hannah’s temper simmered, but she held her tongue. What was done was done; bringing up a sore subject wouldn’t bring them back. Instead she asked, “What do you plan to feed your horses and cows come winter—buttered sweet corn? Cornbread with molasses? Popcorn with seasoned salt?”

  Seth studied her expression before smiling tentatively, “Nah, I don’t want to spoil them, fraa. I’ll plant a late field of hay once the first crop of corn is in. I’ll still have time. If necessary, we can grind the last of the corn and stalks into extra silage. Or we’ll buy hay if we must—those prices are still pretty low.”

  “Seth, don’t you think we should wait until—”

  He didn’t let her finish. “That’s just it, Hannah. If I wait until everyone in the state is doing it, it’ll be too late. It’s about supply and demand. I want to get all I can harvested while the prices are high.” With that he tucked his Thermos under his arm and settled his hat on his head. “I think this will turn out to be one of our best decisions ever. Opportunities like this don’t come knocking every day.” He buzzed another kiss across the top of her head.

  Hannah couldn’t kiss him back since she was too busy biting the inside of her cheek. Opportunities like this? More like a chance to lose your shirt. And why did he say “one of our best decisions ever” when she hadn’t had a chance to utter a word on the subject?

  Her exhale was very close to a snort.

  She wanted to at least suggest he discuss the matter with Simon, but Seth had already made up his mind.

  Maybe he was right. Maybe this was a good chance to build up the rainy-day fund. Right now they couldn’t withstand more than a few days of drizzle, let alone a major calamity. Hannah had never questioned Seth’s judgment before, but now she’d done so three times in two weeks. He knew his business—several generations of Miller men had tilled this sweet, fertile Ohio land respectfully and successfully. She had no reason to doubt him.

  But something niggled at the back of her mind. Something didn’t feel right.

  Didn’t their Ordnung have plenty to say about subsistence and not planting more than your family and community needed? But how could they possibly know what their needs might be six months from now?

  One thing was certain—trusting in the Lord had always served them before. Didn’t Hebr
ews 11:6 say, “It is impossible to please God without faith. Anyone who wants to come to him must believe that God exists and that he rewards those who sincerely seek him”?

  But wasn’t it also said that “God helps those who help themselves”? Hannah felt confused. Seth might be the head of the household, but allowing her some say-so only seemed fair in a marriage.

  Right now, she yearned to put yesterday’s foot-stomping bad temper and today’s doubtfulness behind her. She loved her husband with her whole heart. Tonight she would pray for guidance and for understanding regarding his new plan. That way, just in case Seth decided to ask for her opinion, she would be ready.

  Julia gazed out the window at the steady downpour. How the weather mimicked her spirits. Although the rain would be good for the new seedlings, she could use a little sunshine to lift the tension in her house.

  All because Emma had announced her Rumschpringe! Some boys and most girls sailed through these years between childhood and baptism without choosing to “run around.” But not her Emma.

  Unfortunately, there wasn’t much she or Simon could do. This period of trial and testing-the-water was her right prior to joining the church and agreeing to accept the district’s Ordnung without question. After that, there would be no turning back. It would be different if she were a boy. A mother always worried that a girl would stray too far during this time and damage her reputation beyond repair.

  Hadn’t they raised her to love God and live by His Word? If so, Julia needed to trust Him and trust that all things would be made right. But that wasn’t easy to do when your little girl grew more secretive by the day.

  When Julia asked her why she had cut into the cake before it was frosted, Emma had shrugged her shoulders and grown sullen. Julia knew that a girl didn’t keep secrets about things that didn’t matter, but she was also smart enough to know that asking too many questions would only drive the child away.

  And Simon? Ever since Emma announced she wished a full Rumschpringe, he seemed to leave the matter entirely up to his wife. But Julia witnessed him shaking his head and mumbling under his breath even more than usual.